


Grief Counseling

by CombatantMilk



Series: The Clearest Moment of Our Friendship [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannibal is a terrible friend, M/M, sleepy Hanibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CombatantMilk/pseuds/CombatantMilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's grief digs into his gut like a knife. Hannibal loves to watch it pierce his skin.</p>
<p>As tensions grow, Jack has only Hannibal to rely on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He wakes to the feeling of her sliding into his slap, straddling his hips as she playfully rubs her nose against his.

“Jack.” She breathes against his mouth, her lips only inches from his. He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze soft as it settles on her form. Bella is glorious in the morning light.

“Mm,” he brushes his lips against hers, “is it morning already?” Her soft laughter is met by his warm chuckle as they fall into each other, rising and falling together.

A perfect Saturday morning.

\--

Despite his best efforts to shut out the world, he is dragged back to consciousness. He is afraid to open his eyes, afraid to face an empty bed and house that is haunted by her life. He presses his face into the pillow and feels dampness there. Even in his sleep he has been grieving. He rolls away from it onto his back, trying to escape this physical representation of his sadness.

That is when the bed’s other occupant shifts with a definitely masculine groan and throws a warm arm over Jack’s chest. Jack holds his breath. He brings his own hand up to brush over the one currently grasping his pajama top, follows the wrist to meet a soft silk sleeve. His fingers trace up the arm and shoulder to finally be met by a sharp cheekbone.

Jack is in Hannibal Lecter’s bed. The relief Jack feels is indescribable. He is not alone. He does not yet have to face a house without Bella, her clothes still in the drawers and her favorite snacks in the pantry.

Jack curls around Hannibal and presses frantic kisses to his hair and forehead. He is so grateful to not be alone. The surprised doctor pulls back with a small grunt, his eyes blinking as he brings the world back into focus. The distance allows Jack to take in Hannibal’s perfectly sleep ruffled appearance.

“Jack?” A rough grumble that Jack muffles with his mouth on Hannibal’s.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “thank you.”

\--

Breakfast is an elaborate affair that Jack is incapable of appreciating. Where Hannibal finds the energy and motivation after yesterday to even make a pot of coffee is beyond him.

“Jack” he is pulled away from the window as Hannibal stands beside him, his hand coming to rest on the small of his back. “You should eat something. You were up half the night. Bella would want you to stay healthy.” They sit together at Hannibal’s table, as they have so many times. It’s strange to Jack how something so normal can still exist after his loss, how the world keeps turning.

“She knew she couldn’t beat the cancer, so she decided to…” his voice turns bitter, “beat it to the finish line.” His sip of coffee tastes like ash and burns like fire. He barely notices.

“I wish she would have told me. I wish I could have…”

“You would have tried to stop her. She knew that. People who can no longer function at an acceptable level have the right to die.” Jack feels that last sentence like a knife that Hannibal unapologetically wields. “I am sorry Jack. By the time I realized she had taken something, it was too late. I was afraid to administer any medicine for fear I would do more harm and be the one that killed your wife. I guess I’m a better doctor than I am a friend. I did not want to cause more damage.”

“You’re a great friend Hannibal.” Jack means it. Hannibal’s hand cups his cheek, thumb stroking over his lips briefly. Jack turns into it to kiss the palm when he smells the scents of garlic and onion from the kitchen. He has to shut his eyes against the tears.

\--

“The Chesapeake Ripper is the devil, Mr. Graham. He is smoke.” Will had set up this meeting after talking it over with Beverly. After all, the only other person to truly see the Ripper was the man in the cage across from him. But it seemed Abel Gideon’s eyesight was blurry. “If you want to catch him, you’ll have to kill him.”

That stirs something in Will, a hazy Plan B coming to fruition. Beverly, certainly, would not approve of this one.

\--

“May I use your computer?” Jack catches Hannibal just as he is finished dressing for the day. “I need to research funeral homes. We never….”

“Of course Jack. You never need to ask. I’ll give you some privacy. I’m going out to run some errands, I should only be a few hours. Do you need anything?” He fidgets with his tie until it is just perfect, making eye contact with Jack in the mirror.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you Hannibal.” With his appearance finally set, Hannibal brushes past Jack in the door, stopping only briefly to kiss him.

“Take your time Jack. You need not rush your grieving.”

“I know.” Jack nods. “I want to get this done. I need to be productive.”

Hannibal, after setting Jack up with his computer, heads out, his destination set for the hospital. His errand is an important one and he only has so much time while the morgue will be mostly empty of staff.

There are preparations to be made as well. Everything must be perfect.

\--

Hannibal returns to find Jack napping on the couch. After all of the work he just finished, Hannibal is more than happy to join him.

It is hours later, when they have just finished a late supper and Jack has returned to blankly staring out the window, that the phone call from the hospital comes. Hannibal relishes the confused curl that graces Jack’s brow when he recognizes the hospital’s phone number. He wants to taste it so he does, lips pressing briefly against Jack’s forehead as he gathers his empty glass to add to their dishes.

“Agent Crawford,” Jack’s voice is a mere shell of its usual power.

“Ah yes, Mr. Crawford, it seems, well, there’s an issue with your wife’s…body, sir.” The young man on the other end is nervous, shaky almost to the point of dropping the phone.

“What do you mean” Jack’s voice turns to steel, “there’s something wrong?”

“Well you see…ah shit. Mr. Crawford, your wife’s body is missing from the morgue.”

The morgue worker is met first only with silence followed by an ear piercing crash as Jack drops his phone.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes Hannibal almost five minutes to wrestle Jack away from his car keys and set the now hyperventilating man back in his chair before he can pick up the dropped phone. He rubs Jack’s back in a mockery of soothing attentiveness.

“Mr. Crawford?” The morgue attendant nervously asks from the other end. Within minutes Hannibal gathers all the information he needs and relieves the grateful worker from his task. He then moves both hands to the task of soothing Jack, running over his shoulders and hair.

“Jack,” he murmurs, “the police have already been contacted. They will be at the scene tonight. We should not intervene.”

“She hasn’t even been dead” Jack has to gasp and stutter through his words “for forty-eight hours!” Hannibal’s hand comes to rest at the back of Jack’s neck, thumb stroking gently behind his ear, as he shushes the other man lightly.

“We can go tomorrow. Your team can investigate the scene for you.” He walks slowly around to Jack’s front, hand trailing around the whole way as if Jack were a skittish animal. “For now, you need rest.”

\--

Both the police and Jack’s team turn up with nothing at the scene. Surprisingly it is Jimmy, usually the most eager to leave uninteresting crime scenes, that insists they do another sweep. It is when his hands start shaking and he knocks over some equipment that Beverly stops him.

“Jimmy, we’ve already doubled checked every inch of this place! Face it, there’s nothing here.” Beverly sits with a sigh, feeling ragged after the last few days.

“No,” Jimmy keeps swabbing surfaces, “I’m going to look one more time. We might have…” his voice cracks “we might have missed something.”

“Come on Jim,” Brian says with a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, “you don’t want to contaminate the scene.” He leads the way out into the hall where the three of them sit heavily. Jimmy holds his face in his hands.

“I’ve known Jack since he was a graduate TA in one of my chemistry classes. I was at their wedding!” His shoulders shake.

“We know Jim.” Brian wraps an arm around him. “We know.”

\--

The next four days are the worst of Jack’s life. Officially, he can’t work on the case due to being too close to it not to mention he had already been placed on leave to grieve Bella’s passing. Unofficially, they have nothing to go on anyway. The morgue staff is grilled relentlessly but each one has a tight alibi. The security cameras come up with nothing. It takes the police two days to find where a line had been cut, severing the power for key cameras.

Jack eats little and sleeps often.

He has no work, no wife and no, he shudders at the word, corpse to plan a funeral for. Hannibal does his best with what Jack gives him, making sure he eats at least twice a day and partakes in regular hygiene, but besides that Hannibal leaves Jack to his grief. The doctor is frequently absent when Jack can pull himself from bed, sometimes at strange hours. To his credit however, Jack never searches beyond the bedroom and the kitchen.

Jack’s phone rings several times each day, usually Beverly checking on him and sometimes Jimmy or Brian. He rarely answers and speaks little when he does. So he is shocked when Freddie Lounds’ number graces his screen. Jack’s sorrow fades for a moment, burnt away by a white hot fury as he answers the phone sharply.

“If you’re fishing for a fucking story here Lounds, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Jack” the reporter’s voice shakes on the other end, “Jack I got an anonymous tip. You really, you need to get a team out here. To the observatory. Now.” That catches Jack’s interest, hope clawing its way briefly to the surface for Bella, for anything.

“I’ll bring my team.”

“Jack no- “ Freddie’s frantic chatter is cut off as Jack hangs up, already picking out fresh clothing with one hand while messaging Beverly and then Hannibal with the other.

\--

Freddie sprints to Jack the second he sets foot out of his car, protest on her lips, only to be met with his solid determination. Jack has tunnel vision and sets his sight only on each single step before him on the path to the observatory. He is going to see, whatever the cost, see what could be so horrific as to force Freddie Lounds out of her monster suit. Cars arrive behind him, he recognizes the sound of the worn FBI van pulling up followed immediately by the purr of Hannibal’s car.

Voices in the distance fade to the background, the rushed pleadings from Freddie to Beverly, “Someone has to stop him,” as Jack picks up on feet crunching on the frozen ground behind him. A familiar hand settles on the small of his back.

“Go, Jack,” Hannibal’s voice is a warm fire in a blizzard, grounding Jack. “Go see.”

Together, they enter.


End file.
